Tears and Whiskey - Caryl Drabbles
by MyImmortal329
Summary: A collection of Drabbles starting in Season 1 and exploring the beautiful relationship between Carol and Daryl.
1. Salt in the Wounds

Tears and Whiskey – Caryl Drabbles

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from The Walking Dead. They belong to the creators of the comics and the TV show.

Tears and Whiskey - Caryl Drabbles

Chapter 1 - Salt in the Wounds

Her name was Carol, and she had a husband she was afraid of and a kid that stuck to her side like glue. That was pretty much all he knew about her. But on this day, he'd wandered out of the quarry to take a piss, and he'd seen her with her back against a tree, crying into her hands. Her knuckles were scraped and bleeding, and he could see a bruise that looked oddly like fingers on her forearm.

Ed Peletier was an asshole. That was the first thing T-Dog had told him that first night at the quarry. His kid was afraid of him, and his wife tried not to be, but it was painfully clear in this moment that she was. She was trying not to cry too loudly, maybe out of fear that Ed would hear. Ed was passed out piss drunk in their tent, so he figured he wouldn't be stumbling across her anytime soon.

Daryl felt a little guilty standing there behind the tree, watching this woman sob into her sore hands. He didn't know her. He didn't owe her shit. But he'd seen her with the group. She was kind. She was nurturing. There was something about her that he could tell was hiding away, just waiting to be discovered. She intrigued him, even though he would never admit it.

He couldn't stand to see a lady cry. Last lady he'd seen crying and covered in bruises had been his mama after his daddy got done beating on her and came after him. Merle never got it as bad as Daryl, but he'd gotten his fair share of licks, too.

He stepped out of hiding, deliberately snapping a twig with his heavy boot to announce his presence. Carol looked up at him, her eyes red, her nose running, and she wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands, getting the salt from the tears in her wounds. She winced.

"Sorry," she sniffled, standing up quickly.

"No need to apologize. You ain't done nothin' wrong," he said quietly, handing her a handkerchief out of his back pocket. "Ain't the cleanest, but it ain't bad."

"Thank you," she sniffled, taking the handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. "Daryl, right?"

"Right," he said with a little grunt.

"I'm Carol," she replied, standing up, wiping her hands on the back of her pants.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I know." She handed the handkerchief out to him, and he turned away.

"Keep it. You need it more'n I do." He walked away, because, after all, her problems weren't his business, and neither was she.


	2. A Gift Returned

Carol handed the freshly washed and folded handkerchief out toward Daryl Dixon as he sat on the back of his motorcycle.

"Told you to keep it." He figured that given the fact her husband had been ripped apart by walkers and she'd had to put a pickaxe through his head, she might have cause to use a handkerchief now and again.

"I don't need it anymore," she replied quietly, her voice even and certain, her eyes void of something he'd seen that day in the woods but filled with something new. He saw a woman who no longer had an anchor holding her down.

He reached out, taking the handkerchief in his hands, putting it back in his back pocket. She turned and started to walk away back toward the tent she shared with her daughter.

"Your husband's dead. You ain't gonna cry?" Carol turned, a half-smile quirking up at her lips.

"I cried enough while he was here, don't you think?" She turned and walked away, leaving him to work on his bike in peace.


	3. Lost

For the third straight night, Carol was crying in Dale's trailer. It bothered him, and it pissed him off a little. In some ways, she'd just shut down, but he guessed she had good reason. Her little girl was missing, and Carol had already been dealt a shitty hand in life. No wonder she was crying. What kind of hope could she have after being married to a piece of shit like Ed Peletier?

Daryl crossed the distance between his tent and the RV parked on the Greene's property. He gently tapped on the door to the RV, and he heard Carol's cries stop. He thought about walking away and letting her be, because, hell, Carol wasn't his problem, just like Sophia wasn't. But he opened the door and stepped inside.

Carol was laying on the bed, curled up with her shoes still on.

"Y'alright?" he asked, peering into the darkness, immediately feeling stupid for asking it. Of course she wasn't alright.

"Fine," she said numbly, her tears staining the pillow as she lied.

"Stop cryin' like she's gone. Ya don't know that."

"She's out there…all alone."

"We'll find her. I'll go out there myself tomorrow." Carol sniffled and stood up, peering at him in the darkness across the trailer.

"You don't understand. I promised her. I promised she wouldn't ever be lost again. When she was seven, we got separated in a busy store, and she was lost for a half hour. We found her hiding in a picture booth clutching her doll and crying. She was so scared." Carol sobbed into her hands. "I promised her we'd never lose each other again."

Daryl swallowed hard and brushed his hand over Carol's shoulder.

"We'll find her. Can't lose hope is all." She nodded and smiled sadly up at him, appreciating that at least someone hadn't given up hope for her little girl.


	4. Time

Down in the dirt he held her, blinking back salt and sweat as her body shook with grief. He held his arms around her, protectively at first, then out of comfort. Sophia lay dead with a smoking gunshot through her head, and Rick Grimes held the gun. There hadn't been any other choice, but it gave finality to it all. There would be no more searching, no more hoping. Not for Sophia.

He could feel her wet tears on his arms as they spilled out and slipped down her cheeks and then off onto him. He didn't have the words to comfort her. All he could do was hold her. After he'd been the one to keep her spirits up, to give her hope for something good, there was nothing good left.

"Sophia," she whimpered. He held her close when he felt her muscles jump. She was trying to get to her. He just held her and hoped it was enough. When she pulled herself to her feet, he tried to reach for her, but she pushed back. She pushed him. She looked at him with such grief and despair, and then she walked away.

He wanted to walk after her, but the way her head fell and her shoulders slumped as she walked off alone was more than enough to tell him to let her be. He hated feeling helpless, but all he could give her was time.


	5. Cherokee Rose

He'd followed her out to the meadow where he'd showed her the smattering of Cherokee roses spread out on the bush. He watched as she dug her hands into the earth, uprooting the plant and pulling the blooms off in anger. She wailed. He'd never heard a person wail like that.

He stayed out of sight, his gaze never leaving her. She slumped over, crying as she worked, destroying every last bloom on that bush, putting any bit of hope behind her. Her Sophia was gone, and there was no amount of hoping that could change that.

When the plant was destroyed, she collapsed on the ground, and he wanted to go to her; wanted to help her and carry her, but when she got up covered in scratches and dirt, he realized she needed to do this on her own. She needed to carry herself first. Maybe that was the first step to her healing. There was no looking back, no time to miss what was lost. This was her moment. When she stood to wipe her hands on the sides of her pants and wipe her eyes and nose, she straightened. Her chest heaved as her breathing returned to normal, and she walked away, saying goodbye to tears for her daughter…at least for now.


	6. Safe

The engine of his motorcycle purred beneath him, and he sat next to the fence, watching the barn burn, watching the smoke fill the air. He heard the screams the sounds of car engines, and he figured—or at least hoped—they would go back to the highway to where they'd lost Sophia. It was only fitting.

When he heard her scream, he revved up the engine and took off in the direction of her cries. He saw her walking along the fence being trailed by walkers. Christ, she was alive. Thank Christ.

"Come on. I ain't got all day," he hollered, helping her get on behind him. The tires spun dirt up into the air, and a walker came so close it almost grabbed his arm, but he took off.

"Go! Go!" Carol cried out, her arms holding so tightly around his waist he wasn't sure if he could breathe, but he wouldn't breathe until he got them both away safely.

He focused on the rough road beneath them and to the snarls of walkers all around. He felt her arms wrap tightly around him, pressing her body into him as they rode away.

They broke through the herd and made it out onto the open road, searching frantically for any sign of tail lights in the distance. For now, they were alone, and for all they knew, they were the only two people left in the world.

Her hand touched his chest, and he placed his hand over hers and giving her fingers a squeeze. Remembering what precious cargo he carried with him, he let go of her hand and put his back on the other handle. They drove on in silence with only the roar of the motorcycle to keep them company.


	7. Hero

Nobody was sleeping. They'd stopped for the night, because Rick was out of gas, and while none of them agreed with his plan of staying out here in the open all night long, there really wasn't much they could do about it. Nobody was getting left behind. They'd all just been separated at the farm, Andrea was lost, and they had reunited on the highway. Everybody was staying put for now, but nobody was sleeping.

Daryl sat next to the low fire, his eyes on the shape near him. She was curled up under a blanket, her back to him, her shoulders shaking as she shivered. He wasn't sure if she was cold, if she was scared or if it was a little bit of both, but he had felt a knot in his stomach ever since Carol had turned to him, expressing her worries after Rick revealed that they would all become walkers someday, regardless of how they died. She'd wanted him to step up. To say something. To do anything. What did she need? A hero?

Daryl Dixon had never been anybody's hero. He'd never had a hero. He'd never been put in any kind of position of power or authority, but then there was Carol, who had constantly reminded him ever since he'd started searching for Sophia that he was every bit as good as Rick. She believed in him, and more than that, she made him feel like he could believe in himself. It made him uneasy. He had never had somebody put that kind of power in his hands before.

She coughed, and her shoulders shook, and he scooted closer to her, pulling her threadbare blanket up further over her shoulders. She turned slightly to look up at him, but he didn't meet her gaze. He just sat there, placing his hands in his lap, staring into the dying fire, wondering how the hell she'd ever seen a hero in someone like him.


	8. Hungry

The group had managed to clear out some storage units, using them to keep themselves protected from the weather as their world turned cold and bitter. Not only did they have to worry about walkers, but now they had to worry about sickness. If one of them got sick and died in the night, the rest of them might literally wake up dead the next morning.

The group spread out in several of the units with Carol, T-Dog and Daryl sharing one. On this night, T-Dog was fast asleep after eating his meager meal, but Carol was sitting up, her hands warming over the small fire they'd allowed themselves, keeping no more than a low flame to attract as little attention as possible to their temporary settlement. She'd finished eating minutes ago, but Daryl could tell she was still starving. They'd each had one squirrel, and given the size of those squirrels, Daryl reckoned they were having just as bad a winter as the humans left on the planet. Food was scarce everywhere.

He watched as she placed a hand on her aching stomach and closed her eyes, probably trying not to think about how damned hungry she was. He couldn't take seeing her hungry. The last few weeks, he'd tried to help her as best as he could. He was teaching her how to shoot and how to lay snares. She was becoming a pretty good shot, and he wouldn't admit it, but he enjoyed training her, helping her perfect her aim.

She seemed to enjoy the practice. She'd smile at him and looked at him when she'd hit her target dead center, and the last time, earlier that day, she'd hugged him. She'd been so damned excited about hitting that can and sending it flying off the fence post. And when she'd hugged him, his heart had skipped a beat, and his hands and trembled. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had hugged him. He liked it. He wouldn't mind another hug, especially if it was from her.

He liked looking out for her. He liked talking to her. She seemed to get when he didn't feel like talking, which was a lot of the time, but she also knew how to get him talking. She was the only one of the whole group who could get him to talk for more than two minutes, and he liked that she brought that out in him. Carol was something special. When she talked to him, she looked into his eyes. She listened. She cared. It wasn't some small talk bullshit, it was real conversation. She wanted to talk to him, and he wanted to talk to her. It might have been something simple to most people, but to Daryl Dixon, it was a hell of a thing.

"Here," he mumbled, extending the old tinfoil pie pan he used as a plate. There were a few bites left, but he hated to see her hungry. His own stomach growled, but he was used to it. He'd catch something else in the morning, he figured.

"I can't take that," Carol said quietly, her eyes on him.

"Sure ya can. Just take it. Go on. I ain't so hungry."

"Liar," she said with a half smile. He wasn't pulling his hand back, so she sighed and took the pan. "Thanks." He nodded and sat back, watching her devour the pieces in two bites. He never wanted to see her hungry, and it pissed him off that he couldn't do a damned thing to change the state of things. But he could look out for her. Yeah. That he _could_ do.


	9. Kickback

Carol leaned against the concrete wall of the storage unit. T-Dog was out with Rick checking the area for walkers. Daryl was cleaning off his bolts, scraping off walker blood with his buck knife. He eyed Carol, seeing a pained look on her face as she rolled her shoulder and cricked her neck.

"Y'alright?" he asked, eyeing her through the hair that swept into his face.

"Yeah," she said softly, groaning softly when her shoulder muscles spasmed. "I'm not used to that rifle yet, I guess," she pointed out.

"You handle it good," he assured her. "You'll get used to the weight of it." He brushed his hair out of his eyes and saw her smile. "What?"

"Your hair's getting long," she pointed out.

"You sayin' I need a haircut?" he grumbled.

"No! I like your hair long," she pointed out, her eyes sparkling in the glow of the fire. "It's nice." Daryl felt his cheeks grow red. He wasn't used to these kinds of compliments. Of course, he wasn't used to spending this much time with anybody, especially a lady like Carol. She was funny and smart and she liked to tease him, and he liked her teasing him. She made him feel so good and so awkward and so crazy, and it was a feeling could get used to.

She winced again, and Daryl moved to sit next to her. His hands shook, and Carol looked at him.

"C'mere." He twirled his finger in a motion that let her know he wanted her to turn her back to him. She scooted against the concrete floor, her back to him, and then the scooted back so she could feel his crossed legs against her lower back. His hands were on her shoulders now, and she closed her eyes, her head dropping forward at the sensation of his strong fingers massaging her aching muscles.

She sighed and leaned into his touch, her heart racing as his fingers gently brushed against her neck. She felt her mouth go dry and her skin tingle under his touch. She moaned softly, and he stared at the back of her neck, a curious smile picking at his lips.

"That feels good," she said softly, her aching muscles feeling much better now. He pulled his hands away. "Hey, I didn't say stop." She peeked over her shoulder, grinning at him, and his face flushed and he bit his lip. He moved his hands back to her shoulder, and she closed her eyes. This was the kind of thing she could get used to.


	10. Clean

Daryl hadn't meant to interrupt her bath. He'd been helping Rick haul hot water from the fire to the large washing tub they'd set up in one of the empty storage units. Everybody was filthy and in need of a bath, and they'd been taking turns, everybody getting their turn to soak in the hot water. They just tried not to think about the fact that they were all sharing.

He was bringing one more bucket in, when he heard a gasp and saw the light of the fire flicker against the bare skin on Carol's back. His breath caught in his throat, and she pulled her tattered shirt up in front of her chest to cover herself from his stare. He hadn't seen anything. Just her back, and he could see her spine pearling all the way up her back. He saw scars there, similar to the scars he carried, and he watched her shiver when she turned and met his gaze.

She was sitting on the ledge of the tub completely naked ,her shirt tumbling in her lap, covering her most private areas. Her eyes were wide with surprise for a moment, before she relaxed, and he turned slightly, not looking at her, and dumped the contents of the bucket into the tub.

"Sorry," he muttered sheepishly, turning his back so she could sink into the tub in private. He heard the flutter of her shirt as it hit the concrete floor.

"You can turn now, Daryl. It's ok," she assured him. He turned to see the cloudy water covering her all the way to the cleft of her breasts. Only her shoulders, glistening and damp in the firelight and her smudged face were visible to him.

"That's all the water," he said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, his face turning red as he caught her amused smiled.

"Thanks," she said softly. "I'll only be a few minutes, and then it's all yours." His heart thudded in his chest, and he felt a stirring in his jeans that he hadn't expected at the thought of bathing after her. Of course, he was bathing after Rick, T-Dog, Glenn and everybody else, but that didn't really matter, as Carol was the one that was currently naked beneath that water, and all he could think about was how soft and creamy her skin had looked and how he'd very much like to reach out and touch her.

He didn't move, and Carol couldn't help but grin at him.

"You gonna watch me take a bath, Daryl?"

"Shitsorryno—" he muttered quickly, turning and walking out of the storage unit as quickly as he could, feeling like a complete asshole, hoping she hadn't noticed the bulge in his jeans. He wasn't sure he was even ready to think about that himself yet, let alone explain it to Carol while she sat there naked in a tub of water.

"Carol doing alright in there?" Glenn asked, leaning against the door to the storage unit he shared with Maggie. He had an amused grin on his face and raised his eyebrow suggestively.

"Man, fuck you," Daryl grumbled, pushing past him and disappearing back toward the cell he shared with T-Dog and Carol, hoping Carol was done soon so he could get a bath. A hot bath wasn't exactly what he needed to get his hormones under control, but it would do for a start.


	11. Awkward

Awkward

_Jesus Christ, a man can't even take a piss in private_. Daryl shot Glenn a glare when he stepped away from the rest of the group to relieve himself in the bushes, and Glenn got up to follow.

"Don't need a chaperone," Daryl grunted. Carol caught the tone of Daryl's voice as he barked at the younger man. "Gotta take a piss. Don't think I need backup for that. Back in two shakes. Maybe three." Glenn's face reddened a little and he sat back down next to Maggie, who rubbed his arm and whispered something in his ear. Carol's gaze followed Daryl until he disappeared into the dark of the woods. She sipped at the hot coffee that tasted like mud, but it was coffee, and it was hot, and beggars couldn't be choosers at the end of the world.

Daryl unzipped his pants, grabbed his dick and aimed for a rotten tree stump cut low to the ground. When he was finished, he leaned against a tree, pulled out a crushed pack of cigarettes he'd found in the glove compartment of a car earlier that day. He flicked his lighter and ignited the tip. He brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled, feeling the familiar cloud of smoke fill his lungs. As soon as he exhaled, he imagined Carol's disapproving look and her telling him that on top of everything he had stacked against him with the dead getting up and walking around, the last thing he needed to worry about was getting cancer because of a stupid, disgusting habit.

He sighed and flicked the cigarette onto the piss soaked tree stump and stepped on it to make sure he didn't start any fires. He tossed the pack of cigarettes away and leaned against the tree, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, thinking of her.

He wasn't exactly sure when he'd really started to think about her in that way. Maybe it was after he'd massaged her shoulder in the storage units. He sure as hell knew it was before he almost saw her naked.

Her skin had been so creamy and smooth-looking despite the scars she carried on her back. She was thin but toned, something her baggy clothes tended to camouflage. The more he thought of her sitting there, trying to cover herself, the more he wanted to see her uncovered. He imagined the small swell of her breasts, maybe a few imperfections on her stomach from where she'd carried Sophia. He imagined her skin soft and smooth below her belly, leading down to a soft tuft of curls that he could only imagine touching with his fingertips.

And that did it. He groaned at the tight feeling of his jeans against his dick, and he nearly smacked his head back into the tree. _Shit. _No way was he walking back into camp like that. The last thing he needed was Glenn making some stupid joke and smiling at him like the night he'd caught Daryl coming out of the storage unit where Carol was bathing.

_Fuck, this better be quick_. He licked his palm for lubrication and pulled his dick back out of his pants, closing his eyes and stroking himself, praying it was over quickly and nobody noticed the ungodly length of time he'd been taking a piss.

Carol had kept her eyes on the darkness while he was gone, and she knew something was wrong. Her heart jumped into her throat, and she felt a sudden rush of panic that he was out there. It was too quiet. He was a hunter, and he was pretty stealthy when he wanted to be, and she knew he could take care of himself. Still, the worry pressed on, especially when everybody else seemed to be absorbed in their conversations around the campfire, all but forgetting Daryl had gone off into the woods.

Carol grabbed her knife from her boot. It had holes for her fingers to thread through. Daryl had given it to her after a run last week, and it had meant a lot to her, especially when he'd spent the extra time teaching her the best way to use it for optimum walker carnage.

She couldn't stand this waiting, so she got up and slipped off in the direction Daryl had gone. She couldn't hear anything at first, and that worried her. Images of him lying somewhere hurt or bit or worse ran through her head, and her heart thundered beneath her breast.

"Daryl?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. Nothing. She walked a little further, and that's when she heard him gasping for breath. _Oh my God…he's hurt._ She hurried toward the sound now, drawing her knife to keep herself safe. But when she stepped into the clearing, she saw him, his back to her, his arm moving furious in front of him, and her eyes went wide.

She meant to turn quietly and hurry off unnoticed, but the toe of her boot crunched an acorn, and Daryl froze.

"Oh God. I'm…so sorry, Daryl." Her words came out choked and fast. "I thought…oh shit." She turned quickly and fled, her hand over her mouth, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry at the sight of him pleasuring himself in the woods. Well, he _was_ a man, after all, but she certainly hadn't been expecting _that_.

Daryl stood there, dick in his hand, looking over his shoulder as Carol rushed off, and his throat went dry. _What the fuck just happened?_

_Don't know how many folks are reading this, but judging from the reviews, I'm not certain. If you guys wanna read more, please tell me! Thanks to those who have left their comments! They are most appreciated!_


	12. Lonely Sometimes

Lonely Sometimes

Daryl had avoided Carol at all costs for a few days after she'd caught him out in the woods. Every time she approached him, he mumbled something under his breath about hunting and quickly made a beeline for the nearest hunting trail. Carol was at a loss. She felt like the progress she'd made with him, the friend she had made in him was beginning to disappear.

Finally, she had him cornered. They were making camp in an abandoned train station. Most of the group had already settled down for the night. Snores and whispers echoed through the terminal, and when Daryl had stepped away from the group to check outside for walkers, Carol had followed him.

"You just makin' a career out of followin' me now?" he asked a bit harshly. Carol folded her arms across her chest when he turned to her. She stepped closer to him.

"You need to talk to me."

"I ain't gotta do nothin'."

"Daryl, please," she urged. "I'm sorry about what happened. I was worried about you. Hell, I thought you were hurt."

"Well, ya ought to mind your own damned business." She could see his face turning red. She couldn't help a smile that appeared on her lips.

"You are my business," she pointed out. "You're my friend." He said nothing at that. "Look, it's alright. You're not the first guy to…do that."

"Shit, I know that," he grumbled.

"I do it, too." He froze, and suddenly he felt that slow burn in his belly tugging at his groin.

_The fuck did she just say? _He was pretty sure a noise escaped his throat that was a mix between a cough and a whimper.

"Christ."

"Well, I _was_ married to Ed. Being married to him was just as bad as being lonely." She shrugged her shoulders. "Don't be embarrassed."

"Ain't embarrassed."

"Okay, well, then stop avoiding me when I try to talk to you. I saw you, but I didn't see anything. You walked in on me naked."

"Didn't see nothin'."

"Exactly," Carol pointed out. "Neither of us have _anything_ to be embarrassed about. So stop acting like I kicked your puppy, ok? I just want my friend back." She watched Daryl eye her, and finally he nodded.

"A'right." And he spat onto the ground. She crinkled her nose at him when she smiled. He tried so damned hard to _not_ be charming sometimes.

"Then come on." Carol nudged his arm and turned to walk away. He watched her for a moment, still wrapping his head around the image of her touching herself. It was her fault, after all. She'd told him, and now it was all he could think about. The more he thought about it, the more curious he became, and he followed after her, his mind unable to focus on anything besides those words. _"I do it, too."_


	13. Carry You

Carry You

"Ow!" Carol groaned, leaning against Rick Grimes' shoulder as she tried to hobble back toward the camp.

"Yeah, that's a nasty sprain," he said with a wince, as if he felt it himself. "Get Hershel to look at it when we get back." Carol nodded and winced through the pain. She, Daryl and Rick had gone out hunting, and Daryl had shot something in the bushes and went to gather it when Carol had tripped over a loop of root hidden in some tall grass. She'd heard the pop when she went down, and for a moment, she thought she'd broken it.

When Daryl walked out of the bushes, he saw Carol hobbling along with her hand on Rick's shoulder. He narrowed his eyes, and the more he watched, the more he realized Carol was in pain. He stuffed the bird he'd shot into a sack and tied it to his belt. He hurried over to the rest of the hunting party.

"What the hell?" he asked, catching up to Rick and Carol.

"I'm alright," Carol assured him. "Just twisted my ankle is all." Daryl glared at Rick.

"And you're lettin' her walk on it?"

"Daryl, it's fine," Carol insisted. "I can walk it off, and it'll be fine in no time." She let go of Rick, and her ankle gave out as soon as she stepped on it. She started to fall forward, but Daryl caught her.

"A'right. You keep tellin' yourself that, but I'm gonna carry ya back to camp." He straightened her up long enough to scoop her up in his arms, one arm under the bend in her knees, the other wrapped around her waist.

"You're really gonna carry me the whole way back?" Daryl said nothing, but he walked off with her in his arms. She smiled, biting her lip a little.

"What?"

"Nothing." She giggled, despite the pain.

"Seriously. What?"

"You've never carried a girl before, huh?"

"Whaddya mean?" She bent closer to his ear so Rick wouldn't hear what she was about to say.

"You're grabbing my boob."

"Fuck," he groaned. "Sorry." He moved his hand like he'd been burnt, and she laughed. Rick looked at the two of them like they'd gone off the deep end.


	14. Screw Around

Screw Around

"It's pretty romantic. Screw around?" She looked at him teasingly, and his face felt hot under her gaze.

"Pfft," he muttered looking away. She laughed that wonderful Carol laugh that he loved so much. There wasn't much room for laughter these days, so when she did laugh, it was like music. The last few weeks had been something else. They'd traveled for miles and had just today gotten through the first gates at a prison, and they were hoping to get inside and start clearing it out by tomorrow.

He and Carol were standing on top of an overturned bus now, and she'd had a crick in her shoulder that he'd massaged. When he'd touched her, he'd felt her tremble, and it had done something to him. He'd felt a pull in his groin, and now she was teasing him, asking him to fool around, when it was obvious she was just joking.

Since she'd caught him in the woods and had been stern with him about how it was no big deal, their relationship had taken a turn. They joked with one another. She did most of the joking, but he got in the occasional jab. But tonight was something different.

His dick was getting hard in his pants, and his heart was racing.

"I'll go down first," he murmured.

"Even better," she chided. He paused, looking up at her for a moment.

"Stop." It came out nonchalantly, but he might as well have been begging. She couldn't suppress a giggle as he dropped down into the grass, and like a gentleman, reached up for her. She knelt down, took his hand, and hopped down. He caught her waist with his hands when her feet hit the grass.

They stood there together, hidden by the large, overturned vehicle before them, and the only light before them was that of the moon looming large and full in the sky. Her eyes were almost magic, sparkling in the silver moonlight. His breath caught in his throat, and he suddenly realized he wanted, more than anything else, to kiss her. She caught his gaze, and she smiled a little, her hand brushing over his bicep.

She wondered what he was thinking. What did he want to say? What did he want? Sometimes she thought she could read him like a book. Other times, such as this particular moment, she couldn't read him at all.

"You know," she said bravely, her gaze faltering toward her feet for a moment before dragging back up to his face, "sometimes it's nice to not be lonely." Daryl cocked his head slightly to the side, and she rested her hands against his chest. His hands moved to her shoulders, and she felt a spark travel from the nape of her neck, where his fingers touched her, straight to her core.

"You sayin' you're lonely?" he asked, his eyes boring down into hers. He chewed his lip nervously and she smiled.

"I'm saying…it's been a _really_ long time." She swallowed hard, blinking slowly, her eyes feeling heavy all of the sudden. She watched his adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed hard. She had him nervous, and this excited her.

A voice carried from across the field, and Daryl groaned.

"She's singin' again," he muttered.

"Not exactly Barry White," Carol laughed. He snorted and brushed his hand down her back. She shivered, a little disappointed that Beth's voice had to carry over there and distract them. "Come on. We should get back." Daryl nodded in agreement, but his dick was pretty disappointed.


	15. Cellblock

Cellblock

Poor Lori was so pregnant that she waddled when she walked. Her ankles were swollen, her hormones were getting the best of her, and she was tired all the time. When she wasn't tired, she was hungry, and with food so scarce, sometimes it was best to just sleep it off.

On this particular afternoon, Lori was sleeping, and being a good cellmate, Carol left her to have some quiet. Really, she left because Lori had developed a certain habit of snoring so loudly she'd be attracting walkers if they were outside.

Daryl didn't really like sleeping in a cell, but he had one to keep his things in. He was out dealing with the inmates that had been at the prison when they'd arrived, and Carol was tired. She wanted to take a nap, but there was no way she could sleep with the racket coming out of Lori's mouth.

So, she made her way to Daryl's cell. She smiled when she stepped inside, seeing a few of his things strewn about the room. His pack was opened on the bed, and his underwear and extra shirts were all wadded up and in desperate need of ironing. Carol couldn't help but frown, thinking how he must have never had a woman in his life that looked after those things or taught him how to look after them himself.

Carol folded up every piece of clothes on the bed and placed them inside Daryl's bag, being mindful of his privacy and not peeking to see what else he had inside. She put his pack on the floor and lay down, sighing at the feeling of getting off of her feet for a little while. She could hear people talking, their voices echoing through the corridor, but she was too tired to care. At least Lori's snores and quieted enough that they weren't echoing all the way down to Daryl's cell.

She fell asleep within minutes, covered in a threadbare blanket that smelled like Daryl.

Daryl was exhausted. All he wanted was to close his eyes and get some sleep. They'd dealt with the prisoners for now, but Rick wasn't done with them yet, and honestly, at this point, Daryl didn't give a shit what Rick decided to do, as long as he got a little shut eye for once.

He made his way down to his cell, figuring it wouldn't be so bad to be in a cage for a little bit. Even an old prison bed had to be more comfortable than the concrete floor.

When he stepped inside his cell, he realized his bed was already occupied. He didn't exactly want the top bunk, as the sheets were soaked in blood, and he hadn't gotten around to taking them off yet. He stepped closer, realizing it was Carol laying on his bed fast asleep.

It wasn't exactly how he pictured having Carol in his bed for the first time, but it was a pleasant surprise. Still, he was tired, and he was going to sleep in his bed, damn it.

"Hey," he grunted, touching her shoulder gently. "Carol?"

"Hmm?" She opened her eyes sleepily and smiled when she saw Daryl. "Oh, hi."

"Hey. You're in my bed, ya know?"

"I know," she said quietly. "Lori was snoring and I needed sleep." Daryl snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Little Shane keepin' her up again, huh?"

"Be nice," Carol laughed. "Stop calling that baby Little Shane. Rick's gonna hear you one of these days." Daryl gave her a look that told her he really didn't care, but she scooted over in the bed and patted the spot next to her. "You don't mind sharing do you? Just this once?" He eyed her backside and realized he was going to have to sleep pressed up against her. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, but there was something seriously fucked up in his karma if he was being made to sleep spooned against an attractive woman that just happened to know how to push his buttons and get his motor running.

"Guess not. Could be worse. Could have to spoon with T-Dog." Carol snorted when Daryl slipped onto the bunk with her, rolling onto his side and pressing against her back side. He felt her tremble, and all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her. So, he went for it. He curled one arm around her waist, feeling the rise and fall of her belly when she breathed against his forearm. She didn't pull away or tell him to leave her alone. She just pressed back gently into his chest, and she sighed. God, she sighed and relaxed and made a little humming noise from the back of her throat, and he thought he might die.

"Sweet dreams," she murmured, before she fell asleep in his arms, and he lay there staring at the back of her neck, wishing he'd had the balls to give her what she needed; what they both needed.


	16. Slowly Dying

Slowly Dying

He gripped Carol's knife in his hand, studying the blade that was covered in walker blood and gristle. Though he'd finished the walker off, he'd stabbed it a few extra times for good measure, as if this act itself would undo what had happened. Carol was dead. They'd even made a grave for her. He'd placed a Cherokee rose there and mourned her and wished her alive again. The last thing he'd ever expected had been for her to go. Lori and T-Dog were gone, and while he hated that and missed them, even Lori, he felt an ache in his chest every time he thought of Carol and her laugh and her smile.

He wiped the blade off and slammed the sharp blade into the concrete floor, his blood hot in his veins. He slammed it down again when he heard a cell door creak open and the _knock knock knock_ of it against the fallen walker that was sprawled across the floor in its way.

He felt a darkness creep into his heart at the thought of what was behind that door. Another of the seemingly endless walkers? Or a walker that had her face? He felt like he was choking, slowly dying as he stared at that door, wondering if it was her he was going to have to stick a knife into. He hated what this world had done. He hated that someone with as good a heart as Carol could have been treated so shitty before the end came, and that even after her abusive bastard of a husband had died, the bad parts kept on coming. He just hated it. He hated himself more for not being there for her.

The door continued to move back and forth, and he slammed the knife harder into the concrete before bringing it up and banging it into the wall. He could feel the tremor sing down the blade of the knife and into his hand, through his arm and straight to his heart.

He stood up, pacing back and forth before delivering a powerful kick to the door. _Fuck you. Fuck you! I fucking hate you._ He didn't exactly know who his hatred was being directed at, whether it was the God his mama had read to him about when he was a boy, the walker that had killed Carol or to the idea of Carol's corpse coming back as the thing he hated the most. In that moment, he hated it all.

He knew what he had to do. The group had made a pact to finish off a person if they'd been killed or bitten. Nobody wanted to come back as one of those things, and he wasn't about to break his promise.

With a deep breath, he heaved the heavy walker's corpse out of the way and opened the door, Carol's knife gripped tightly in his hand. He peered into the dark, his arm coming back, and when the light filtered into the cell, he saw those beautiful blue eyes and her face, pale and withdrawn. She looked up at him, her eyes slightly unfocused, as if she wasn't completely conscious. His heart stopped in his chest and then swelled at the sight of her. _Not dead. Not dead._ His breath came in gulps and pants, and for a second, he thought he was dreaming.

"Jesus," he murmured, looking down at her face. She gave him a weak smile, her focus coming back, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "You're ok…"

"I'm ok," she murmured, trying to get up but finding herself a bit too weak.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, crouching down, gently taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her head to examine a couple of cuts and bruises along her cheek.

"T-Dog saved my life," she murmured. "All I remember is him telling me to run. They swarmed on him." Tears were in her eyes. "I couldn't get out," she whispered. "Something was blocking the door." She gasped softly, her lips so parched that she had a hard time forming her words correctly. Daryl reached into a small pack he'd carried with him, pulling out a bottle of water. He held it to her lips, and she took a shaky sip. "I don't remember much else. Just screaming. Nobody heard me." Her body shook, and Daryl felt like somebody had shot him in the gut.

"C'mon," he murmured, gently caressing her arm, covered in dirt and bruises. "Let's get ya outta here." Carol said nothing and wrapped her arms around Daryl's neck as he lifted her easily from the cold concrete floor of the solitary cell. He held her close, trying desperately to hide the fact that his own heart was pounding and his arms were shaking. He'd been prepared to find her remains, to find come back as a walker. Nothing had prepared him to find her alive. He closed his eyes for just a moment as he carried her, thanking whatever had been watching over Carol to get her this far. He made a silent vow from then on that he would never lose her again. Never.

_Author's note: Thanks again for the support guys! Please keep up with the comments/reviews/feedback. I greatly appreciate it. _


	17. She'll Understand

She'll Understand

Telling the others that Carol would understand his choice to leave with Merle had merely been his way of trying to assure himself, but deep down, he felt like a complete asshole for not giving her an explanation. In the end, he'd gone with loyalty to his brother. It had been a knee jerk reaction his entire life, even when Merle wasn't deserving of the support, such as in this situation. But, as big of a shithead Merle had been through his life, he'd beat up on other assholes who dared mess with his baby brother. Most of the time, when he was around anyway, he'd had his brother's back.

But now, as he walked with Merle, who was currently yammering on about some chick from Woodbury he'd screwed, Daryl found himself thinking about Carol, imagining her reaction when Rick told her that Daryl had stayed with Merle.

"You're awful quiet, baby bro," Merle pointed out in the middle of his telling of how this chick Jamie had given him the best blow job of his life. "You thinkin' 'bout someone back at the prison? You been puttin' the screws to somebody?"

"Fuck you," Daryl grumbled, kicking a rock and watching it bounce off a tree stump.

"Oh, he speaks!" Merle laughed. "So which one was it?" Merle's eyes twinkled with glee. "Can't be the one with the Chinaman. Andrea tells me she's got a pretty little sister though. Mmmm Mmmmm."

"Man, just shut the hell up," Daryl shouted, turning to face his brother, ready to kick him in the nuts or punch is jaw, or maybe both.

"Can't be that short-haired gal. The married one. She's gotta be a cold fish."

"She ain't married no more," Daryl pointed out, catching himself. Merle snorted.

"Oh, she ain't, huh? You keepin' check on her then?"

"Her husband got bit by a fuckin' walker, you dumb sumbitch," Daryl spat. "She put the pickaxe through his head herself. Don't you talk about her."

"You fuckin' her?" Daryl had enough. He turned around and sent his fist into Merle's face. Merle ducked, so Daryl's knuckles caught the sharp edge of his left eye. He stumbled backward, and Daryl's hand throbbed, but he didn't care. "What's the matter, Darylene? I dishonor your lady friend, did I? The way you looked at me when I mentioned her name makes me think that if _you_ ain't fuckin' her, maybe I should be gettin' some of that." Daryl shoved Merle, sending him on his ass. Leaves and dirt flew up, and Merle threw his head back in a laugh. "You're even dumber than you look," Merle laughed, wheezing and slamming his good hand down onto the ground.

"The fuck you goin' on about?"

"You chose your no good bum of a brother over the woman you love." Daryl eyed his brother_._ "What the hell's the matter with you, boy?"


	18. Gone

Gone

Carol was numb. She slid down onto the bunk in her cell feeling like a bundle of nerves had coiled around her heart and fizzled out, leaving her completely numb to anything but worry and hurt. She pulled her arms around her legs, hugging her knees to her chest, and she wondered why he hadn't said goodbye. Oh, Rick had explained everything about how he'd gone with Merle because of what Merle had done to Glenn and Maggie by taking them to The Governor. But it made no sense. Yes, she knew he had a loyalty to his brother because they were blood, but she never in a million years would have guessed Daryl would have just up and left like that for Merle. Merle never would have done the same thing for Daryl.

She leaned her back against the cool concrete, feeling a bit like she'd had the wind knocked out of her. She'd told Beth that Daryl had his reasons and that everything would be ok. But she wasn't sure about that. The more she thought about it, the more her heart ached and her stomach hurt.

_Gone? Daryl's gone? Is he coming back?_ It had been a kick in the stomach to her when he'd told her. It had been the kind of hurt she'd felt when he'd called her a stupid bitch back on the Green farm. He hadn't meant it, and he'd come to her later, and without actually apologizing had made it up to her by showing her those Cherokee roses. But now, he was gone, and there was a certain finality to it. She'd gotten used to losing people abruptly since the end came, but she hadn't been prepared for him to just up and leave that way without saying goodbye.

She sighed, suddenly feeling restless. She found herself wishing she was a little more capable with going it alone outside, because if she was, she'd be out there looking for him and dragging him back to the prison with or without his brother. It was the end of the world, and people needed people. Merle was still a human being, albeit on a sliding scale sometimes—but if Merle had to be there in order for her to have Daryl too, so be it. The rest would work itself out, wouldn't it?

Then baby Judith started crying from somewhere out in the cell block, and Carol realized her cheeks were damp from her own tears. Reality set back in. If Daryl wanted to be there, he'd be there. It was plain and simple. He was gone, and if Merle had anything to do with it, he might never come back.


	19. Home

Home

The gunfire had ceased, and while the prison yard was now overrun by walkers thanks to The Governor's lackey driving a truck through the fence, they were still alive. Daryl's breath caught in his throat when he made it back into the cell block with Rick and Merle trailing behind him. Carol was nowhere to be found. When his eyes searched the room, Maggie nodded toward Carol's cell. He nodded his silent thanks and moved toward her.

Even Merle knew to keep his mouth shut, but from the grunt of protest and the clinking of cell bars, Daryl knew that Merle was getting locked into a cell, and for now, he was ok with that. He needed space from him and he needed to see Carol.

He walked up to her cell, watching as she scrubbed her hands in a small wash basin, the water a rusty pink from blood.

"You're hurt." Carol jumped at the sound of his voice, rough and full of worry. She turned, her eyes wide with surprise and glittering with tears.

"Daryl," she murmured, wiping her hands on a small towel. "When did…"

"Just now. We put down some of the walkers along the fence with Rick."

"We? Merle's with you?" Daryl gave an awkward little nod, the conversation he'd had with his brother a little earlier echoing in his head. _What the hell's the matter with you, boy?_

"Are you ok?" Carol looked down at her newly cleaned hands, remembering the first words he'd said to her when he walked into the cell.

"Oh. I'm…it wasn't my blood." She gave him a sad smile. "Axel. He…he didn't suffer." She sighed and sat down on the bunk, running her fingers through her short hair. Daryl shuffled his feet for a moment before taking a step toward her and sitting down next to her.

"Sorry I didn't say goodbye," he said quietly. Carol nodded.

"He's your brother. I get it."

"He's an asshole," Daryl murmured. "And he's my brother." Carol leaned her head on his shoulder, and Daryl's heart skipped a beat. "Sorry I left."

"Yeah," she said gently. "But you came back. That's what counts."


	20. Whiskey

Whiskey

The makeshift kitchen was the only place Carol could generally get a little time to herself, aside from her own cell, but generally somebody was wandering in and out to hand her Judith or to ask her something about supplies. She had become pretty much the go-to girl when it came to taking inventory of what supplies they had and what they needed.

C-Block was pretty quiet today. Rick, Michonne and Glenn were out on a run, Beth and Carl had taken baby Judith out for some sunshine, and the rest of the group was either sleeping or on watch in the watch tower. Then there was Daryl who was in his cell trying to avoid everybody. His brother was dead, and he knew that Merle wasn't exactly gonna be missed by most or any of the group.

Carol had been meaning to stop by and talk with him, but she just hadn't had a chance to talk to him without somebody coming in and interrupting. So, as she organized the cupboard, she figured that once she was done with that, she might just sneak up and see Daryl. Hopefully his mood would have improved since he came back to the prison, understandably angry after having had to put down the reanimated corpse of his brother.

She felt her fingers clink against something hard and glass behind the dozen cans of peas on the top shelf. She furrowed her brows and reached back, grabbing the glass neck of a bottle. When she carefully removed the dusty bottle. It was an old bottle of whiskey, and she wondered how the hell it had ended up in a prison cabinet, but she supposed that didn't really matter anymore.

She'd never been much of a drinker. The occasional glass of wine had pretty much been all she could take. But, she wasn't totally against it. Given that the world was basically one big shell of what it used to be, there was really no reason to put a stigma on a person having a glass of whiskey when all hell was breaking out around them, was there?

She sighed and gripped the bottle in her hand and left the kitchen area. She peered through the dust-filled shafts of sunlight that pressed through the window bars. She could hear Daryl moving around in his cell, so she climbed the stairs to join him.

He was pacing his cell, and he looked a bit jittery. She leaned against the cell door, waiting for him to notice her. It didn't take long.

"Hey," he mumbled, turning to face her, eyeing the bottle of whiskey in her hand. "You takin' up drinkin' 'cause there's nothin' else to do at the end of the world?"

"Mmm, no," she said quietly. "But I thought maybe you could use a drink."

"Nah, I'm good," he muttered, sitting down on the bottom bunk. Carol crossed the distance between them and sat down next to him. She leaned over and placed the bottle of whiskey on the small table near his bed.

"I won't judge you if you do," she pointed out. He shook his head.

"Nah. We'll save it for when the real shit hits the fan."

"Great," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Can't wait for all of that." He nudged her shoulder. "You know, I really am sorry about your brother."

"Yeah," he muttered half-heartedly.

"Really, Daryl. I know none of us knew him like you did."

"Nah, you pretty much knew everything there was to know about him. He was a rude, selfish piece of shit. But he saved my ass more than a couple times growin' up. Guess I feel like I owed him somethin'."

"He wasn't all bad. He loved you. And he let Michonne go," Carol pointed out.

"After he knocked her out, tied her up and drove her out to the middle of nowhere. Yeah, he was a fuckin' saint." Carol sighed, and she cautiously put her hand over his. He sighed and shook his head. "Sorry. Don't mean to take it out on ya. Just tryin' to figure out how this all happened. It's been me and Merle since I can remember."

"Yeah," Carol said softly. "After Ed died, I think people were watching me, expecting me to…I don't know what." She sighed. "After all those years, I hated him. But he was my husband, and he and Sophia were all I knew." She leaned her head on his shoulder. "For a couple of days, every time I took a step forward, I expected Ed to be there to tell me to stop." Daryl stared at the whiskey bottle before grabbing it in his hand and offering it to her. She gave him a little half smile and chuckled.

"No, I'm with you. Let's save it for when we really need it."


	21. New People

New People

When Rick had brought back the remaining members of Woodbury, Daryl had been hesitant to embrace welcoming them into the group. But, with Carol's urging him to think positively and to understand that they had all been through horrible thing, too, he was slowly coming around. And now, there were even more people. The population at the prison was at an all time high. Almost every cell block was cleared out now. There were so many people and there was so much noise that Daryl often spent his time outside where at least there was some fresh air.

Carol was down in the garden when Daryl approached her one afternoon while the sun was high in the sky.

"Hey," he murmured.

"Hey, Pookie," she said with a little grin, wiping the sweat from her forehead. He gave her _that_ look that she loved so much. "Need somethin'?"

"Wanna go hunting with me?"

"Me? Why don't you take Michonne or…"

"'Cause I wanna take you," he murmured. Carol felt a flutter in her chest, and she smiled.

"Well, I guess I can get Karen or Beth to take over here for me." Daryl nodded. "I'm not that great of a hunter."

"You're getting' better. 'Sides, practice makes perfect, right?" She gave him a nod before narrowing her eyes at him.

"You're just trying to get away from the new people, aren't you?" Daryl spat into the dirt.

"Shit. That kid with the glasses—"

"Patrick," she offered.

"—and Beth's boyfriend—"

"Zach," she murmured with an amused sparkle in her eyes.

"They're gettin' on my damn nerves. Followin' me around callin me Mr. Dixon and shit like I'm a damn high school teacher or somethin'." Carol laughed and shook her head.

"You're gonna have to get used to it, Daryl. You're a good guy, and Patrick and Zach are just kids. They look up to you." He mumbled something and kicked a loose rock out of the way. "But, if you insist on going hunting, I wouldn't mind to get out of here for a while. Maybe you can accidentally grab my boob again." Daryl nearly choked, his face turning red.

"Fuck," he murmured. "Never gonna live that down, am I?" She giggled again, and he watched the way her face just lit up, and he loved it. He knew she wasn't teasing him to be mean. He liked when she teased him. But now he was going to be out in the woods alone with her, and all he was going to be able to think about was grabbing her boob. _Fuck. What was I thinkin'?_


	22. Damned

Damned

He paced his cell, his heart feeling hollow, as if someone had carved out a piece of it and left him lacking. His fingers flexed, and his shoulders twitched with each furious breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, hard and painful, and all he could see were white bursts and her face.

She was alone. She was out there alone, and he was never going to see her again. He wanted to look for her. He wanted to beat the living hell out of Rick until he told him where he left her, what direction she'd driven off in. It was all swimming around his head in waves, and his heart felt like it was being gripped and squeezed in a vice.

As much as he looked at Rick Grimes like a friend, like a brother, the man had damned Carol. He'd damned her to a life of solitude. It might be long and lonely, or it might be short and painful, and either way, the thought was too much.

"Daryl," Rick murmured, knocking on the bars of Daryl's cell.

"Leave me be," Daryl grunted, his stare cold as ice.

"I did what I had to do. You all want me to lead? That means I got to make the choices around here. I can't always be the good guy. She _killed_ two of our people."

"_She_ was one of our people," Daryl murmured, his tone low and bitter. "You get to walk around here talkin' to ghosts on telephones, but Carol steps up and does somethin' for the group, somethin' you _know_ she didn't wanna do, and you banish her for it? That's fucked up. She ain't a murderer. That ain't in her heart."

"Daryl."

"It ain't in her heart." Daryl pushed past Rick and left the cell block, needing to talk to his friend. Needing her. But she was gone, and he was lost.


	23. Sound

_Author's Note: I don't think anybody's reading this anymore, considering I haven't had feedback since Chapter 11. So I probably won't bother updating this here anymore unless there's any interest._

Sound

Carol sat by the low-burning fire rocking baby Judith to sleep. Tyreese slept soundly on the other side of the fire. It was the soundest he'd slept in days. Maybe her telling him about Karen and David had given him some sort of peace. He had his answer now, and he could finally put Karen to rest.

The nights were so quiet now. The occasional cricket sang out in the woods somewhere, but aside from Tyreese's snores and baby Judith sucking on her fingers, it was a quiet night, and those were the kinds of nights that Carol's thoughts ate at her, tearing away layers and layers until her stomach knotted, her heart tightened and all she could think about was him.

Mika and Lizzie were dead. Sophia was dead. Karen and David were dead. Daryl might very well be dead. She'd seen it happen. The end. She'd listened to the screams and heard the gunshots and the explosions. She hadn't seen Daryl. She had only seen Tyreese and the girls, and she'd tracked them for miles.

Still, her mind was drawn to him. She couldn't stop thinking about him, wondering if he was alright, wondering if he'd made it out. She hated not knowing. She hated that she hadn't been there.

Judith cooed in her sleep, and Carol clutched the child to her chest, wanting to soothe her and tell her bedtime stories. She wanted to do the things she'd always done for Sophia, but the reality of it all was that there was that this child was probably going to die too. If not today, maybe tomorrow. Maybe a year from now. Maybe she'd grow up just enough to want to live and then be pulled out of this world by a walker bite. Nothing was fair anymore. Nothing seemed to matter now except for a beat in your heart and a breath in your lungs.


	24. Hounded

Beth had fallen fast asleep on the hard ground. He was thankful. She was a good kid, but all she'd done all night was talk about everybody at the prison, everybody that was possibly—hell, probably—dead. All he'd wanted to do was get some food in his stomach and fall asleep and hope he'd wake up and find it was all a fucking nightmare. The last week had been one of the worst since the world went to hell. He'd felt pretty much helpless and unable to do a damned thing to fix the problems in his group. And now there was no group. Suddenly, it was him and Beth, and hell, they could have easily been the last two people on Earth.

And she wanted to talk. And he hated her for it. Alright, so he didn't hate her, but he hated the idea that this kid was now somehow his responsibility, and she was as stubborn as he father was.

As he lay back against the ground using his arms folded behind his head for a pillow, he stared up at the sky as smoke billowed under the blanket of stars. The prison was still burning. His home was burning. It might have been a place where murderers and psychos once roamed, but it had become a home. It had become the place where he felt safe, where he knew his family was safe. Carol was safe.

Now that had all been blown to shit. But not him. Not Beth. They were still alive, and maybe that meant something good was going to come of all this. For the first time, he was thankful Carol hadn't been at the prison. There was still the chance that she was alive, and if she was alive, maybe that meant he would see her again.

Maybe there was some hope to be had, after all.


	25. His

He leaned against the tree, watching as the weapons from the bag Rick had buried were sorted. When he heard the approaching footsteps, his whole body felt like it was on guard. After nearly being slaughtered and left to drip dry on a meat hook, that was understandable.

But when he turned and saw her standing there, armed to the teeth with his crossbow and her gun, somehow he knew. She had saved him today. He ran to her, bridging the gap between them in less than a second, pulling her into his arms, savoring the feeling of her so close to him. He'd wondered if he'd ever see her again, knowing she was out there on her own with only so many bullets, only so much food. It had been like a shot to the heart when Rick had broke the news to him, and he had wanted to break Rick's jaw. But in the end, they had still needed each other, and that was the _only _thing that had kept him from going off after Carol. The more they lost, the weaker they became.

And that guilt came flooding back to him when he held her so close, felt her hands on his back, heard her gasp and choke back a sob when he pulled back to look at her. Her eyes glimmered with tears, and she had that smile on her face—that beautiful Carol smile—and he couldn't believe she was here. Her breath was against his ear, and he felt warmth wash over him when she whispered to him.

He leaned his head down, pressing his forehead against her shoulder, holding back the tears as his throat choked back a cry of relief. She was here. But he still couldn't quite believe it. He raised his head quickly just to make sure she wasn't a dream. She was real, and he swore to himself that with whatever power he might have left, he was going to keep her there, and he was going to find a way to make it up to her. Words couldn't describe his disgust with himself for not searching for her or his joy at seeing her again. His Carol. His.


	26. Hers

She let out a soft sob as he pulled her into a tight hug, momentarily lifting her off the ground, his chest trembling against hers as he gasped for breath. Her fingers burrowed into his hair, gently caressing him there as he held her. God she'd missed him, and feeling the sudden contact of his arms around her, their bodies pressing into one another, it was almost too much.

His hands were on her shoulders and then her back and then her arms. His gaze penetrated hers, his hands shaking as he realized she was truly there in front of him.

She felt the tears tickling her lashes as she stared into his blue eyes, thankful that she'd succeeded. She'd gotten them out. She'd saved them. She'd saved him.

"You're ok," she whispered against his ear, so softly that nobody else could hear. She was in awe when he bowed his head, overcome, resting his head against her shoulder. He looked back up at her again, and she bit her lip, trying not to cry. There was far too much to do, far too much to say, but right now, in this moment, she had him. And she couldn't think of anything she wanted more.


	27. Suffocate

Suffocate

_Author's note: This is about the time when I veer off from the rest of Season 5. I love Bob, so the Terminians aren't going to eat his leg. _

She leaned against one of the pews as the group sat around drinking sacramental wine and eating food collected from the food pantry that afternoon. Everybody was talking and having a great time catching up. Daryl was quiet, keeping an eye on the newest group members, Abraham, Rosita and Eugene, all the while taking momentary glances at Carol who sat near him, still a little bit in awe that she was there and with them.

Carol could feel his eyes on her, and she could almost feel the questions burning into her skin. She felt her face flush, her heart pound, and she still couldn't talk about it. So she focused her attention on the three new people, watching the way Abraham stared at Rosita's ample cleavage, making no attempt at hiding his ogling. She watched the way Rosita responded with a smile and a roll of her eyes. And then there was Eugene, this guy she couldn't quite believe was a scientist given the way he presented himself. He sure knew some pretty fancy words and could put a good story together, but Carol wasn't completely trusting of him yet. Given everything that had happened on this day, trusting people was going to be pretty difficult for most of them, she figured.

Daryl got up to go talk to Rick, and Carol made her move. She'd been eyeing that door for a while, and suddenly, all this togetherness was stifling. She felt suffocated. She got up quietly. She'd gotten really good at making herself invisible.

Before she could even think to leave, she was being stalked by a walker. When she put it down, there she saw Daryl Dixon watching her from the shadows. She'd felt upset and guilty at the same time for having crept out that way, but when he crossed the distance between them and asked her what she was doing, well, there wasn't a whole hell of a lot she could say.

"You leavin'?" he asked, his voice a little on the angry side.

"I don't know," she murmured.

"We just…we just got you back."

"Yeah," Carol said quietly. "And I'm not sure Rick's completely on my side right now."

"What're you talkin' about?"

"He doesn't trust me," Carol pointed out.

"You saved his life. He knows that. He ain't gonna forget that." Carol sighed and leaned back against the car. Daryl stepped closer to her.

"Lizzie's gone. Mica's gone. I don't have a reason to stay." He heard the tone in her voice, strained and longing, and he reached out, his fingertips barely brushing her shoulder. "I killed them, Daryl." He looked at her, unmoving, unspeaking, just giving her the chance to get it out. "Lizzie was sick, and I didn't see it. She killed Mica and was going to kill Judith." She swallowed back tears. "Tyreese and I made a choice. _I _made a choice." She scoffed. "I guess I've been making a lot of choices lately."

"We all have," Daryl murmured. He watched her wipe her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Ya didn't kill because ya wanted to. It was 'cause ya had to. With Lizzie. With Karen and David. You were tryin' to survive. You were tryin' to keep others from gettin' hurt." His touches were bolder now, and he gently squeezed her upper arms. "You made a choice. Now ya gotta make a choice now. Don't leave, Carol. We need ya." Carol sighed, and she nodded her head.

"Okay," she murmured. She bit her lower lip and looked into his eyes. "What choice did you make?"

"What?"

"You said we all made choices. What was yours?" He said nothing, but even in the moonlight, she could see his eyes darken. His gaze went from her eyes to her lips, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Was this really it? Was he making his move?

She realized that it was going to have to be her. In typical Daryl Dixon fashion, he wasn't budging, so she took it upon herself to cup his face in her hands and bring his face down so she could press her lips against his. He started at her touch but relaxed and fell into the kiss, intoxicated by the warmth of her breath against his mouth.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as his hands moved slowly up to her neck, gently stroking her there, eliciting a soft moan from the back of her throat. She gasped when his mouth opened up to hers, and his tongue darted out, caressing her lower lip, opening her up, tasting her warm mouth against his.

His kiss was tentative and soft, but as she opened up to him, his courage grew, and he slid his tongue against hers, soft, slick, warm, and she felt her knees tremble. She'd never had a knee-trembling kiss in her whole life, and the thought of that was enough to make her feel weak. Her hands grasped at the front of his shirt, bringing him in closer, and for a moment, he really didn't know what the hell to do with his hands. But he settled for putting them around her waist, his thumbs drawing lazy circles against her stomach as he kissed her.

When they finally broke the kiss, his breath was ragged and coming in quick gasps. Her lips were pink from his kiss, and her eyes were searching his as his face turned red. She could see it happen, even in the moonlight.

She smiled a little, and his feet shuffled nervously. He wasn't used to this kind of intimacy, and it had kind of taken him off guard. But he liked it, and judging from the smile on her lips, she liked it too. For too damned long, he'd thought of kissing her, thought of how she would feel and taste. And the reality was far better than he could have ever fantasized about.

She brought her hand to his cheek and wiped a bit of wetness off of his lips with the pad of her thumb. He brought his hand up, capturing hers before boldly placing a kiss to her knuckles. She smiled, biting her lip, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"Stay? With me?" He nodded toward the church. "Can you do that?" Carol sighed, and she nodded slightly.

"I can," she murmured. Her heart swelled, and she felt lighter than air. She didn't know if it was him giving her the chance to get it all out and talk about what had happened with the girls or if it had been that kiss, but she knew now that she didn't want to be alone. She wanted to stay with him.


	28. Mirrors

They had taken their time getting back to the church, and by the time they arrived, most of the group had already hunkered down for the night to sleep. Bob and Sasha were cuddled up together on one pew, their heads bowed beneath a blanket. They were either sleeping or kissing, but given how still they were, they were probably fast asleep. Various other piles of lumpy blankets around the church told that most everybody else was sleeping.

Michonne was seated next to a window, seemingly keeping watch when Carol and Daryl arrived back at the church. Michonne gave them a little nod and went back to whatever it was she was doing. They moved their things to a nearby corner that nobody was currently occupying and set out their sleeping bags. Carol was shivering at this point. It wasn't generally this cool this time of the year, but tonight, there was a bit of frost in the air.

"I'll be right back," she murmured, looking down at him, suddenly feeling a little bit nervous about sleeping next to him. They'd shared close quarters before, hell, they'd even spooned before, but now they both knew that there was much more between them than either of them had thought. Now things were different, and she just needed a minute.

Daryl watched her walk off toward the church office. Gabriel had a wash basin set up for them to wash their hands in. She just needed to splash some water on her face and breathe.

She sighed, stepping into the room where a few candles were lit around a mirror, giving just enough light that she could see what she was doing. She dipped her hands into the basin and rubbed them together under the water before bringing them up and splashing some cool water onto her face. She wiped her face with her hands and stared into the mirror, looking at herself, looking at how exhausted she looked. Her hair was getting longer, her eyes had dark circles under them, and she looked like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

She looked away for a moment, but when she looked back up, she saw a figure in the doorway behind her. She gasped out of instinct, but he stepped closer, and the candlelight revealed Daryl's face in the mirror. She relaxed when he put his hands on her shoulders and stood behind her. She leaned back against his chest as he grew bolder and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. She smiled sadly and looked into the mirror, staring at the reflection of his face.

"You ok?"

"Yeah," she murmured. "Just needed a second."

"Want me to go?"

"No. I'm glad you're here." She turned in his arms, bringing a hand up to stroke his cheek. He bent down, pressing his lips against hers softly, and she made a delighted humming noise against his lips. Yes. She could definitely get used to kissing him.


	29. Choices

Choices

The group stood around outside the church, each of them staring at Eugene as he stood there, slack-jawed and whimpering about how he wasn't a scientist. Sometime in the night, his conscious had gotten the best of him, and come breakfast time, he'd admitted, over a stale bowl of old oatmeal, that he'd never been, at any time, affiliated with any scientific organization, and basically, the Washington D.C. story was a big hoax and his own way of staying alive in the apocalypse without having to lift a finger very often.

Daryl and Carol stayed at the back of the group, wanting to touch each other, wanting to feel close, but neither of them felt quite ready to share the new change in their relationship, whatever that change was, with the rest of the group. Carol caught Daryl's gaze as Eugene spoke, and they turned their attention back to the others, who looked ready to beat Eugene within an inch of his life for his lies.

"So basically," Glenn said slowly, his jaw clenched as he tried to process everything, "you lied the entire time?"

"I don't particularly care for the word 'lie,' but if that's what you're going with, I guess my answer is yes. I was aware of what abilities I did have, and the abilities I lacked greatly outnumbered those. I knew my chances of survival were slim to nil, and then I met Abraham, who was pretty much my exact opposite. I weighed my options and figured that sticking with him would greatly increase my chances of survival." Everybody stared at him. "I chose to make up a story, because I did not want to die. I thought if I could get to Washington, I'd be able to find a way into a safe building, free of walkers, free of chaos."

Daryl'd heard all he needed to hear. He kicked a rock in Eugene's direction, sending a spray of dirt into the air. Everybody looked at him, and he spat on the ground, turning on his heels and walking away. Carol went after him, listening to Eugene continue to explain in the background.

"Fuckin' idiot," Daryl muttered, sitting down on the church steps, watching the scene unfold from a distance. Carol sat down next to him, nudging his shoulder with her own.

"What now?" she wondered.

"I sure as hell ain't goin' to D.C. With Eugene bein' a lyin' sack of shit, I think I'll take my chances on the road. Hell, maybe go back to Terminus and finish what you started."

"Or we could move on," Carol pointed out. "Make a choice. Leave the area. Leave Georgia if we wanted to." Daryl rested his elbows on his knees and propped his chin in his hands.

"This is bullshit," Daryl grumbled. "Can't sit around waitin' to die…waitin' for the next group of assholes tryin' to kill us or take what we got." Carol thought for a moment before standing.

"Then we won't," she murmured. "C'mon." Daryl stood with her, and they went back to the group. At that point, everyone was arguing at once, and Carol stared at Rick, waiting for him to meet her gaze. When he did, he quieted, and the rest of the group followed.

"Look," Carol started, her nerves getting the best of her at first, her voice faltering. She looked at Daryl, and he nodded, giving her the encouragement she needed. "I know some of you don't know me. Some of you probably think…you did know me and now you don't. I've known some of you since this whole thing started. The thing is, what we all have in common…we survived. We're still here." Carol took a few breaths as the crowd watched her. "There are people out there that almost slaughtered half of our group yesterday. Some of them are out there, and they're going to find us if we stay here. We need to move on. We need to keep going. We need to get the hell away from this place." She looked at everyone, her confidence shaking a bit. "We have a choice to make. We need to make it now."


	30. Hot

"What?" Carol finally asked, after having caught Daryl staring at her for the third time as they sat in the back seat of the small bus. He shrugged his shoulder. "You can tell me."

"That was kinda hot," he admitted, his cheeks turning red.

"What?" she asked, an amused smile playing at her lips.

"You…back there at the church."

"Really?" she asked, her own cheeks flushing and warm. "So…does that mean you like a woman throwing orders around?" Her voice was low enough that only he could hear her, and he ducked his head a little.

"Guess we'll find out sooner or later," he murmured, his eyes on her lips. She gasped softly when his hand brushed against her thigh, and she peeked around to see if anybody noticed. Everybody was too focused on the road, arguing about which way they should go.

They'd all agreed to get on the bus and drive away, maybe look for signs of the car that had taken Beth, but they also agreed that, for the sake of the rest of the group, they couldn't afford to spend much more time going after people that may or may not be alive. They couldn't risk people unless it was a sure thing.

"First place we find with a bed," Carol murmured, her eyes searching his, "I'm sleeping for days." Daryl nudged her shoulder. "Well, I wouldn't be opposed to other things, should they…come up." Her gaze bore daggers into his, and he swallowed hard, feeling a stirring in his pants. The fact that she could tease him now and that he knew there was a good possibility of something actually coming of it was a little unsettling, but in a good way. He'd gone too damned long wondering what it might be like to kiss her, and the reality far exceeded any expectation he could ever have imagined. The thought of touching her, of making love to her...well, he was like a kid waiting on Christmas.

She peered around the bus before finally taking his hand in hers, linking their fingers together. He stared at her from behind a curtain of hair, his deep blue eyes piercing hers, and she felt her pulse quicken at what was behind that stare. He licked his lips, and felt tingles spread from the pit of her stomach to her core.

He ran his thumbs over her knuckles, and she squeezed his hand. It was pretty obvious they were _both _going to be doing some teasing, and it was going to be fun.


	31. Audience

Audience

The group had stopped along the highway for the night, and while most everybody was asleep on the bus, Carol and Daryl were sitting on the hood of an old car, enjoying the balmy Georgia night as the stars glittered in the sky overhead. Daryl passed a bottle toward her, and she stared at him.

"I believe you're trying to get me drunk, Daryl Dixon."

"You're the one said you couldn't sleep," Daryl pointed out. "Ain't tryin' to do nothin'."

"Damn," she teased, squeezing his thigh.

"Ain't tryin' to have no audience." He nodded toward the bus, where Eugene was sitting in the driver's seat, clearly watching them.

"I've seen dead people get up and start walking around," Carol said quietly, taking a sip from the whiskey bottle. "But _that_ is truly creepy."

"Ah, he seems harmless, but he keeps lookin' at us like that, I'm gonna beat the shit out of him." Carol giggled at that and gave him the bottle. "It's like he wants us to do somethin' so he's got somethin' to watch."

"Well, some people just can't let go of their cable television," Carol laughed. "Hey, I thought we were saving this for when we really need it."

"It's as good a night as any," he pointed out, taking another swig out of the bottle.

"I don't miss cable," Carol said quietly, laying back against the windshield of the car, staring up at the sky, almost expecting to see the lights of an airplane or something, but the sky was still as a graveyard. "I do miss my shampoo."

"Shampoo?" he asked with a snort, leaning back against the windshield with her.

"God, it smelled so good," she said with a little hum. "I haven't been able to find it on any of our runs. But it smelled like…I don't know….it was sweet and kind of a mixture of sweet pea and honey." She sighed. "I miss bubble bath. Hell, I miss baths. I feel so filthy."

"You look a'right to me." She laughed.

"I think you're just trying to get into my pants," she laughed. She took another drink and gave it back to him and saw him eyeing her.

"Not with no audience," Daryl chuckled, nodding toward the bus, where Eugene was still gawking from the darkness.

"Ooh, where's your sense of adventure?" Carol giggled, turning onto her side and pressing her lips to his cheek. He turned his face swiftly and caught her lips with his, pulling his arms around her, tasting her tongue with his.

"You wanna?" he asked, his words a little slow and slurred thanks to that bottle they'd been passing back and forth.

"More than you know," she laughed. "I just never seem to be able to get you alone." Daryl kissed her again, and he glared at Eugene as he did. Eugene had his hands on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly, and he was leaning forward now to get a better look.

"Aw, fuck," Daryl growled, as Carol collapsed against the windshield in a fit of stifled laughter. He leaned down, pressing his face against her neck, kissing her there softly before rolling away from her and getting up from the car. "Gotta take a piss."

"How romantic. You sure know how to woo a lady."

"Pfft, you're drunk," he muttered, stumbling over his own feet. Carol laughed again, and he blushed, thankful for the darkness. Maybe nobody else saw it.

He did his business, and glanced over his shoulder to see Eugene still looking. With one hand on his dick, he flipped Eugene the bird with the other.

"Dirty motherfucker," he mumbled. After zipping himself back up, he returned to the car and lay back down next to Carol. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "S'wrong?" She eyed him for a moment before grabbing his shirt and tugging.

"C'mere," she murmured, pulling him toward her. He rolled over on her, kissing her hungrily, and she sighed happily against his lips.

"Y'alright?" he muttered against her mouth.

"Just keep kissing me," she whispered. His hand slid up her thigh, and she moaned, and eye raised an eyebrow, watching her eyes close and her lips part open in a gasp. Her hand moved boldly down his chest and down to cup his dick through his jeans. He grunted against her mouth, pulling back in surprise to see the wild look in her eyes, and he began to get hard as she rubbed him.

"Fuck, Carol," he growled, kissing her roughly.

"Yeah," she murmured, stroking his jaw with her finger tips. "Fuck me."

"Jesus Christ," he panted, as she gave him a firm squeeze through his jeans. He had almost forgotten about Eugene until he heard the man clear his throat from the bus. "God damn it, Eugene."

"Nope, no Eugene," Carol breathed. "Just me. Just you." Daryl sat up and slid off the hood of the car, pulling Carol's hand and tugging her off the car.

"C'mon," he growled, almost feral, and he tugged her off away from the car, away from the bus. There was an old van not too far down the road, and he thanked the heavens when the back door opened easily, and he slipped inside. Flashing a light around quickly to check for danger, he thanked the heavens once more and pulled Carol inside, shutting the door behind them.


	32. Complete

Complete

He panted against her lips, and she moaned softly at the sensation of him buried inside of her for the first time. Tears stung her eyes and escaped when his fingers brushed over her sensitive skin, causing her eyes to fly open and her head to slam back against the floor as she cried out.

He'd wanted to make it last for her, make it good for her, because they'd waited for so long, but when it came down to it, they were reduced to desperate fumblings and hoarse cries as clothes were shed and passion was heightened.

Hands and fingers and fingernails grasped and dug in to hold on, and their bodies moved together in almost a state of shock at the sensation of pleasure and need jumbled together. Muscles stretching and tightening, arms bracing, teeth baring, cries bit out against shoulders, they moved as one.

And when he came, he heard her cries hit his as their lips met, and his tongue dipped into her mouth, tasting that sweet Carol taste that might just be the death of him. He kissed her jaw, her cheek, her eyes, tasting the salty tears she shed from their joining. She held her close, comforting her, rocking her, feeling safe when her arms circled around his broad shoulders.

It wasn't how they thought it would be. It wasn't perfect. It was clumsy and messy, but it was theirs. It would get better, it would always get better, but it was worth the wait. It was worth everything just reach out and be reached for in return. It was all they had, and it was all they needed.

The end

Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for hanging in there with me through this! This isn't exactly how I intended to end this, but I have to know when to move on from a piece. This felt right. Thanks for all the encouragement and support!


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